Family Don't End in Blood
by SenpaiLorac
Summary: They had survived on their own just fine. But fine was never good enough, was it? He looked at her in a way that caused her insides to burn... ...she had not felt since it all started. And now all she knew was that she had to be here. With them. With Him.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you miss him?" The question came softly through the air in a way she wished it hadn't. It fluttered over her skin like butterfly wings and into her consciousness with soft syllables and worried sentiment. She sighed heavily and turned her gaze to the red head beside her. Bright blue eyes looked at her with concern, rose lips pressed together upon pale and freckled skin. Dustee was beautiful. She had a thin body, enough muscle to pull her own weight, but not overly so. She was shorter than her, probably about five foot six or so, and she was graceful. But that wasn't exactly what made her beautiful. She was kind. Her heart was a good heart and it pained her to know that she was forced to live in the world they were now living it.

It had happened like any end of the world disaster happened. Slow and steady but too fast to react. Too many signs, too many people disbelieving, too little too late. Their world had turned upside down in less than a month and a half. It was not in Liz's nature to panic, so she did not. She had stayed behind when the military came to escort people safely out of the city, she had refused to go to any of the 'safe havens' – call her paranoid or whatever, but she had been glad she followed her gut.

By the time the two women came to be in each other's lives, Liz was already falling into place with the new world. She found it easy to navigate through. Avoid people, avoid the dead, be alone. It was safe. It was how it needed to be. And then came Dustee. Dustee-Rose. All red haired and bright eyes and desperate. She had been covered in blood. Bits and pieces of bodily chunks had marred her skin and clothes as she walked through the streets in a daze. She had almost killed her. But when she had seen the crystal blue of her eyes, she knew she was alive. At least for the time being.

Dustee had protected her.

In hindsight she had been doing a shitty job at watching her back, too mesmerized by the fact that she had come across someone alive to be paying attention to what was going on behind her. Blue eyes had lifted, connected with her gray and then directed themselves over her shoulder before barking, "Duck," held up her Remington semiautomatic 45 and shot the dead right between the eyes. She had barely ducked in time.

And then the redhead had passed out. Fallen on the street, gun in hand, blue eyes still open and staring upward into a cloudy sky.

That was damn near a year ago now.

"Every second," Liz answered, she hated when Dustee started in on her about things. It was like the younger woman wanted her to lose her shit. Bringing up… _him_ …was uncalled for. But Liz never got angry with her anymore. That used to be the case. She would flare up and let loose. Had called the redhead every name in the book a few too many times, and still Dustee had been patient and persistent. Her logic was simple: let it out or let it kill you.

It was sound logic, Liz decided.

The red head nodded and shifted the strap on her shoulder, "It's okay to miss him, I would be more worried if you didn't."

"There will never be a day that I won't, Dus, there couldn't be," she frowned and shrugged one shoulder before reaching out and helping Dusty remove her backpack. "Come on; let's rest here for the night."

Truth was, Liz knew that Dustee would want to talk more on the subject. She wasn't ready to go into any more detail. She had said enough already. Stopping here would get her busy with setting up the perimeter and keeping busy with campsite necessities. It seemed, however, that Dustee was well familiar with her tactic. Instead of agreeing she raised a thin brow at her and refused, "No, I think we should keep going, we killed those last three too close to here." That was a good point. "Besides, I have a feeling we should go a little more, it's a strong one."

Liz sighed. Damn. If she didn't want to stop here, she would want to talk. With a slow nod the blonde agreed and she released her backpack before the two kept on through the wooded area. She was unsure if they were still in Georgia, last time she had checked Atlanta had been twenty miles west. The two of them had avoided that city, cities were dangerous. They had found that out the hard way.

"Why won't you tell me his name?" Dustee asked.

Fuck. Here we go again. Liz frowned and eyed her through the side of her eye before shaking her head and speeding up, "None of your business."

"None of my…" Dustee stopped walking and glared angrily at her. Had she not been with this woman for a fucking year now? They had been through a shit ton of shit together and still, still she held out? "After all the shit we have been through together you still have the balls to say that to me?"

Liz looked over her shoulder but did not stop, when the quick steps of Dustee caught up to her she felt the woman spin her around by grabbing her upper arm, she looked at her, annoyed that she had manhandled her but knowing she probably had every right to be annoyed and put out by her reluctance to speak on certain things. After all, Dustee had no problems telling her everything. She was about to say something to her when a man's voice filled the air. Both women froze in place, ears straining in as the slowly lowered themselves into crouched positions, Dustee's grip on her arm tightening as Liz caught her eye and put her index finger to her lips in the classic 'shhh' motion.

"Lori!" the voice called out, it sounded hoarse, worried, desperate. All warning signs. "Lori please why are you here?!"

Liz motioned for Dustee to stay. Dustee shook her head desperately trying, but Liz assured her everything would be okay. When she was finally released, she turned and quickly made her way to the thick bushes before slipping through them and towards the voice. When she reached what looked like the edge of the woods, her eyes grew wide as she took in the site before her.

A huge building surrounded by fence after fence after fence. A prison. It looked secure enough too. Gray eyes noticed a few people walking closer to the building, animated and alive and it was a sight she wanted to forever remember. Dustee and her were not alone.

"You're dead," came the confused voice and Liz turned to see a man standing on a small man made bridge. His hands were up and pressing roughly into his hair, his eyes shut tightly. He looked like he was about to cry and when he dropped his hands and spun around to look at…well it looked like he was looking at someone who wasn't there – she noticed his stubble cheeks and chin, defined jaw and prominent nose. Had it been that long? She found him attractive, but still, he seemed like he had one too many screws loose.

The man reached out then, slowly, fingers outstretched and she tilted her head in curiosity when it looked as if he were caressing someone's cheek. All in all it was a beautiful moment even if it hung in anxiousness on her part. He was lost in whatever world he was in and that – for some reason – was breath taking. That was until the first bullet flew past him and effectively ended the peaceful scene before her. Liz dropped to the ground completely. Flat against the Earth, eyes wide as she watched the man do the same. Clarity seemed to be back in his eyes as he scrambled and began to shoot back to someone Liz couldn't quite see.

Dustee found her. Falling down beside her with panic in her voice, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she told her and pointed. The two women watched in mounting horror as the gunfire continued. "The dead will hear this," she told her, "We need to get out of here."

"Liz," Dustee prevented her from moving, she pointed and they watched as trucks and a few cars left, the gunfire ending, "It's over, oh shit…" they looked to the man who had been on the outside of the prison's fences. He was being surrounded by the dead.

Without realizing she was doing it, without recognizing the absurdity of it all, Liz had sprung to her feet and took off towards him, he had four on him at once and with a small grunt she brought her hunting knife up out of its sheath and plunged it into the back of one of the dead's skulls right as an arrow came flying past her ear so close it nipped it. With a hiss she ignored it but heard a gruff voice, "Get out the way girl…" and then saw another man grab ahold of one of the dead, slam an arrow through the skull and shove it aside. Together they killed the other two and helped free the man from his trapped position against the fence.

Dustee came up to her then, gun in her hand and pointed at the two men as they all looked to one another. Liz's breathing sharp and hurried, but she pressed her lips together and glared at the men. She watched as the taller of the two raised his hands, palms out and the newcomer lowered his crossbow.

"How many walkers have you killed?" The taller man questioned and the two females frowned.

It was Dustee that answered, "Not really keeping count now are we?" Still her hand was raised, her finger on the trigger.

The shorter stouter man stepped forward then, his entire stature that of barely restrained power, she could see his muscles working in his exposed arms and watched the tick in his jaw as he bit out, "How many people have you killed?"

Dustee faltered then, stepping back behind Liz, her gun hand falling to her side as she frowned deeply and looked away. Liz hated that reaction, but she understood it. With a glare at the taller man, he seemed to be the leader of the two in her opinion she answered, motioned towards Dustee, "Two and I have killed twelve."

There was a pause and a silence that enveloped the four of them in an overwhelmingly heavy unease, Liz lifted her chin defiantly when the third question was asked: "Why?"

She could feel Dustee's hand on her back then, gripping her shirt in a way to comfort her, but she didn't need the comfort. She had no regrets as to why she did what she did and she found Dustee's to be misplaced, looking over her shoulder to her companion she gave a brief 'it's okay' type smile before looking to the gruff man with the crossbow and then towards the taller man behind him and answered truthfully, "Because they killed my son."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Dustee_**

Dustee followed Liz closely as the two men had brought them inside the prison. Liz seemed apprehensive about the entire thing, having whispered to her that they should not accept and that they were doing fine on their own. It was true, they were doing fine. But fine wasn't good enough. She was tired and hungry and she knew that Liz needed to rest. The woman was all kinds of messed up in the head and her body was in a constant state of exhaustion even though she never once complained to her. Dustee just knew.

She waited for the tall man to lock the second gate before she turned her attention to the one with the crossbow. He seemed on edge, his eyes were squinting at them under a fringe of greasy hair and she raised her brows in curiosity when he locked gazes with her. He had come from the woods too. Why had he been out there?

Almost as if they had read her mind, the tall guy spoke up, "Where is your brother?"

Crossbow grunted, "Went back."

Liz shifted her stance, finding it awkward to stand there and eavesdrop in a conversation that did not involve them no doubt, but Dustee was curious and so she piped, "Back where?

He snarled at her. The crossbow guy actually snarled, flinging his hand towards him, his muscular arm following as he grounded out, "Ain't none of ya business girl."

"Daryl," tall guy said slowly, placating.

"So that's your name!" Dustee smiled brightly as if she had just won a bet. "Daryl and…?"

Liz shook her head at her, a small amused smile present on her face. Score! She made her smile. Liz never smiled. She suspected it had everything to do with what had happened to her and her…well it had been a long time coming, what those people got. Dustee had been there, she had seen what Liz was capable of, had found out what she was capable of for the woman. It was a good thing they were on the same side, was all she could think afterward.

The tall guy's light eyes connected with first her's and then Liz's as he answered, "Rick, Rick Grimes, and this is our home, we do not let a lot of people in, its too dangerous now-a-days. We have a small group, a tight knit group, I can't say y'all will be able ta stay, but we do have some food and water that we'll share."

Dustee's heart froze a small amount at the words; she looked away from Rick and towards Daryl before sighing softly and nodding, "Thank you."

Liz, on the other hand, was hell bent on being rude. "Big enough place to let us stay for a while," she points at one of the watch towers, "You don't have anyone guarding that one, but you do the one in the front, seems a bit of a hit and miss plan, we can take the tower and stay for a while. Bandage up, get a bit healthier –"

"Not my call," Rick interrupted and looked to Daryl, "Take them up to the group, I'll be there shortly."

Daryl nodded and started towards the inner gate, motioning for them to follow.

 ** _Liz_**

Rick had lied. He didn't show back up the rest of the day and well into the night. Liz and Dustee had found themselves welcomed about as a case of chicken pox by the rest of the group, save for a man named Hershel. He was kind, tended to their wounds even though they did not ask and made sure they had enough to eat to fill their stomachs. It had been a long time since they had had full bellies.

When Rick did come back, it was dark. He made his way through the cellblock, stopping only long enough to give Liz a nod and overstep Dustee's feet as she laid asleep on the floor. He disappeared down the hall, the same hall they were locked out of. It was true that these people were private. Smart. She liked it.

"Go to sleep," she heard Dustee order in a sleepy voice.

Liz sighed and relaxed back down on her blankets, "I'm trying."

Two days went on like this. They weren't really accepted, but they weren't told to leave. Two days they ventured around the grounds with freedom, yet never allowed in the inner cellblock. Two nights spent sleeping together, hearing the group's mumbling from down the hall, briefly wishing she could interact with them as well.

On the third day, they were outside, Dustee was talking to one of the prison's occupants, a short haired woman who looked exhausted, but proud. Liz found her someone to be wary of, Dustee found her comforting. She did not know why, but she had watched her companion's face light up when they had been introduced. Who knew? Dustee was someone who liked everyone, perhaps she just wanted to be around another female. Liz certainly wasn't the best company.

As they spoke, a loud commotion broke out. Shouts and demands and people rushing towards the entrance left Liz and Dustee confused and curious. They followed, their eyes narrowing in on what was going on. Rick was asking a blond woman if she were armed, she watched as the forcefully put her on her knees and then frisked her. All the while the woman protested weakly, calling them by name and wondering what was going on.

Dustee was worried. Liz was skeptical.

The moment she overheard that the woman was from the same place the people who had just shot the prison up was, was the moment she knew she could not trust this woman.

And she didn't, the entire day she couldn't keep herself from feeling uneasy about her. She had a death wish and a martyr wanting. It was the worst type of person one could be. Rick didn't seem to trust her either and Daryl made himself known that he didn't. She could appreciate that. She caught his eye and nodded, affirming to him that she was in agreeance and watched as he looked her over curiously before turning his attention to Dustee.

He did that a lot.

And she returned the curiosity.

Liz frowned as she overheard Carol and this Andrea. It was this conversation that made Liz's blood turn cold. These people were good people. They were a family and they were trying to protect themselves. What she gathered was simple, their turf, their family was in jeopardy. And this woman had once been one of their own. She was a threat. She knew too much. And that was exactly how she felt when Andrea told Carol she couldn't do that. She wasn't a killer. That's how it was in this new world; you did what you had to do.

Liz watched as Andrea stormed off and with quick glance at Dustee who shook her head and mouthed, 'leave it alone', she stood and followed her. When the two of them made it to the courtyard, Andrea turned around and sighed.

"I don't understand whats happened to them," she started. Looking at Liz with tears in her eyes. "They're monsters…"

Shaking her head she stepped towards Andrea and spoke simply, "When I first met them, your guy and his men were shooting this prison up. The boy and the baby were here on this courtyard – bullets barely missing them."

Andrea shook her head, "I don't believe any of it. Rick's lost his mind and the rest follow him blindly."

And there it was. The decision. Andrea was on the enemy's side. Nothing would change her mind, Liz looked dead in her eyes and knew it wasn't because of logic, but because she had feelings for the man. It was written all over her face. How sad. Stepping closer to the woman she spoke softly, "Do you really believe that?"

The blond looked up and glared hard at her, "You don't know him! None of these people do! He…he wouldn't…" she trailed off, then with a huff stormed off. Liz watched her and knew. She had to do what she had to do.

 _ **Dustee**_

Dustee stood next to Beth and Carl as they watched everyone hug and say their goodbyes to Andrea. It had been an intense day and she was thankful that it was almost over. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. Frowning she looked towards Liz and wondered what was going through the woman's head. Liz was a tall woman; she was a good three inches taller than Daryl, who seemed to always be sulking in the background. She was fit, large muscles under tanned skin. Her jaw was sharp, her nose pointed, she reminded her of one of the wood elves from Lord of The Rings. Regal, hard, but beautiful. It was just how she carried herself – strong and sure. Dustee admired her, in that. But she also worried for her. Stoicism was a dangerous thing in this world. Being overly cold would harbor an explosion event that would have one talking to 'invisible people'.

At the thought she looked over to Rick and couldn't help raise both brows in shock when she saw him hand Andrea a gun through the car they had given her. That was a dumb move! Dustee looked to the rest of the group and saw their unease. None of them wanted this to be happening. Whether they just wanted Andrea to stay with them or if they wished she had never come in the first place, was unclear.

Either way, Andrea was pulling away after saying a soft goodbye to Rick through the window. The group started to disperse, but Dustee found Liz staring hard in the direction of the slowly retreated vehicle, she stepped towards her and then froze in fear at the set look of determination that was etched across her friends features.

Before anyone could register, before Daryl had time to reach out and grab Liz, before Rick screamed his protest, before the gun that was resting limply in Maggie's hands was taken, Dustee spoke a word that was hidden in the sound of gunfire. "No!" Liz had done it. Daryl's arms wrapped around her, Maggie's voice rang out and Rick stared in horror from Liz and down to the car that no longer moved, but now held a crimson spatter of finality on the inside windshield and dash.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Liz_**

She was well aware that she had acted on instinct. But instinct had kept her alive this entire time, hadn't it? The group had not taken kindly to her act. Rick had damn near killed her. He nearly would have if Daryl hadn't taken her down to the ground in the exact moment that Rick had pulled his magnum out and shot towards her.

Dustee had moved then, pulling her 45mm out and stepped forward, all notion of sweet and innocent gone as she kicked out, connecting her foot with Rick's knee and then placed the cool tip of her weapon to his temple. Guns lifted, people shouting and Daryl's weight on her with her arms in an awkward angle had certainly made her second guess herself.

Then Carol's sweet voice cut through the air. "Rick…" she had said, her voice hard, her eyes locked on a napkin, "Rick, look…" The woman stepped into the center of the crazed circle, walked straight past all the aimed weapons and held the napkin down at Rick's eye level.

 _Fifteen seconds._

That's all it took for him to go from beast mode to accepting mode.

"Daryl, let her up," he gritted out, looking down and then towards the man currently crushing her, "Let her up!" He ordered and Daryl reluctantly did so.

Liz stood, spitting blood to the ground and frowning because she didn't remember being hit in the…well concrete to the jaw may as well be equal to a punch. Looking from Daryl who eyed her curiously, she looked to Dustee who still had her gun at Rick's temple, "Dus," Liz spoke, "Let him up."

Rick had put his gun on the ground, in doing so his group had stopped holding their guns at the ready and now were all inching forward curious as to what Carol had brought to change Rick's mind. Dustee holsters her weapon and reached down to help Rick to his feet, "Sorry about the knee," she mumbled and smiled weakly at him when he looked to her and dismissed it with a clasp to her shoulder.

"Look," he held the napkin out to Glenn, who took it and looked at it with Maggie before they started passing it through the group.

Liz wiped her lip and eyed Daryl when it came to his hand and she glanced at it over his shoulder, a great feeling of relief washed over her then and she smiled to herself, instincts had paid off. This time. She would have to work on her technique, though. Another body slam to the ground and she may not want to ever have an instinctual thought again.

It had been luck, Liz knew, that her hunch had been proven by the map Andrea had drew on the napkin. As detailed as one could get on such a small surface, it showed where they had their ammunition and weapons, their food, their sleeping quarters. It even had marks revealing the weaker points of their perimeter. All in all it would have been something that gave a lot to the Governor. Too much. And it had saved Liz's ass.

Hershel spoke first, "Do we bury her?"

Daryl spat, "Fuck no, burn the bitch."

Rick shook his head in the negative, "Andrea was one of our own –"

"She was going to betray us!" Carl interrupted his father, "She deserves to be burned."

Dustee frowned and moved to Liz. They both understood what the conversation was about, but having not been there during the time where Andrea was actually a member of the group, it was slightly uncomfortable. Still, it was a person's life we were talking about. Gone in an instant, Liz sighed, "I'll bury her…" All eyes turned to her and she shrugged, "She fell in love with him, people do stupid shit…" was all she offered in an explanation before she looked around and asked, "Where are the shovels?"

 _ **Dustee**_

She had seen a lot of things after the world decided to fall. The way the people in this group cared and fought for each other was something she had not expected to find. When Liz had started digging the grave for a woman who had once been in the group, even though she had been about to betray them, Glenn and Rick had helped. The rest of the group had removed Andrea from the vehicle, Daryl shooting her in the head with one of his arrows before removing it with a soft, 'sorry' and a frown.

These people were good people.

And that was why she was worried. Rick, Daryl and Hershel were gone, leaving Glenn and Maggie on border patrol. Not that that seemed like a smart idea. The two were not talking. They had just gotten back from being hostages at Woodbury. Something was off. Something had happened to Maggie and Glenn was on a raging rampage. It was the hope of the group that Rick could somehow get this "Governor" to back of and leave them alone. Fat chance.

Liz was with her in the tower, which looked like a makeshift room as well. It had been a few hours since they had left and Dustee hated the wait. What if they never came back?

"Stop worrying," Liz would say, though she did not look in her direction, her gaze was locked on the tree line. Dustee looked to her and frowned deeply; shaking her head she turned herself completely away from the older woman and walked a few feet away. Liz was sometimes someone who just did not understand things. There was something that kept her coldly logical and it bothered Dustee.

She glared at the road, "They could be dead."

Liz nodded, "They could be, yes."

"What are we going to do if that's the case?" Dustee asked softly, hoping to hell that Liz would say they would stay and make a life here. She was so damned tired of being out there, always on the move, always looking over your shoulder. "What happens if they never come back?"

"We leave."

"But why?" Dustee snapped and turned around to face Liz, the woman looking over her shoulder to her, "Why do we have to leave, Liz?"

"Without them? The rest of the group will fall apart," she said, "It would crumble and I do not want to get caught in the crosshairs."

"So you would just leave them? Glenn and Maggie? Carol? Little Carl and Judith…." Dustee raised a brow, curious as to her answer to that. She knew that Liz had a soft spot for kids. She may be cold and aloof at times, but she loved children. It was somewhat strange, in retrospect.

Liz turned and completely faced her, leaning against the railing and crossing her arms, "They aren't our problem, Dus," she sighed, "It would be dangerous to stay any longer than we have to."

"We are staying with this group, Liz, you need to get used to that idea," Dustee told her, wagging her finger at her, "They need us; just like we need them, and you know it!"

Whatever Liz was going to say in rebuttal was lost to the sound of a car approaching. Dustee looked at it and eyed Liz carefully before saying simply, "Come on," she nudged the woman and then grabbed her wrist before pulling her behind her. The news that was being delivered in that vehicle was important to the both of them too. It meant something important. Dustee knew this, whether Liz wanted to or not. Dustee knew she did though. She just didn't want to make roots. Roots were dangerous. They had found this out. The hard way.

When they made it down to the cell block, Rick and the rest of them were waiting for them. It was Rick's comment, "Now that we are all here," that made Liz stop dead in her tracks, Dustee looked to her and grinned slightly as they both listened carefully to the man.

 _ **Liz**_

So they wanted war.

It didn't make any sense. This was a man who did things strategically. He talked and talked and made sure to look at every single angle before having to go into the extreme and here he was, one meeting in, talking about war. Something happened. Something he was holding back.

Liz narrowed her eyes in on him as he spoke. Trying to pep talk the rest of the people, a quick glance around and she noted that it was working. Rather well. They were all accepting their fate. They would fight for this man. They would die for him. For each other. And as much as she wanted to be a part of something so strong, something so damn noble in a world gone to hell – Liz wasn't ready to lay down her life for them. For any of them.

It had been her and Dustee and she didn't need any of this tragic bullshit fight-to-the-death propaganda. What she wanted was the truth.

When Rick was done, she watched as he stalked out of the room, her gaze never leaving him as she took off after him, the slight pressure on her forearm and the slip of fingers made her aware that Dustee had tried, and failed, to keep her from following him. Glaring over her shoulder at the woman she went after him anyway, pointedly annoyed with Dustee and how she had been acting today. The woman was overly zealous. She wanted a home. Wanted sanctuary. But this was not it. This was a death trap. One day, one week, perhaps a month away from being taken. She knew this. And she had a hunch that Rick knew this as well.

She found him outside on the catwalk with Hershel. Sometimes that crippled old man surprised her. He was quick. For having only one leg. The two men looked up as she exited the door and immediately stopped talking. The annoyed look Rick sent her way accompanied by the grinding motion of his jaw made it clear. He was telling Hershel exactly what she wanted to know.

"You know," Liz would say as she approached the two, she casually leaned against the fence, fingers slipping through the chain link as she leaned on her arm, "If you are going to do the brave war speech, telling the truth is better than lying."

"What are you talking about?," Rick said, blue eyes connecting with her gray.

"Why the sudden declaration of war," she questioned, "You don't seem the type to go from 'lets resolve this peacefully' to downright 'sparta'. So what gives? What are you hiding? And how bad is it that youre lying to the people who would kill and die for you?"

There was slight tension in her tone then, she had not meant for it to creep up, but it did. She had dealt with this type of egotiscal behavior before. Its what got people killed. And she was a part of those people. So was Dustee. That was not going to fly. Rick needed to know that. He had to be made aware.

Hershel sighed and spoke simply, "She has the right to know, they all do."

The Sheriff frowned deeply, looking to her and then to the old man before his shoulders visibly deflated. A weight seemed to settle on them and Liz unknowingly stepped to him and without realizing she was doing it reached up to lay a comforting hand on his upper arm. She was unaware of this and he seemed to be as well when he whispered, "I don't know what to do."

Liz frowned deeply and moved even more so to him, he looked to her and the shadows that played in his eyes caused her heart to freeze. He was just a man, after all, with a large group of people counting on him. Looking to him. Depending on him. And here she was berating him and ….Liz shook her head, "What is going on, Rick, tell me, please."

"He wants Michonne," he answered darkly.

"The ninja warrior? Why?" She was stumped, her brows rose nearly to her hairline.

"Says that's the only way this will end without bloodshed, if I give her up." Rick stated and Liz shook her head slowly. That wasn't right. That was a lie. Nothing about the man's past behavior indicated he would give up so easily. One life wasn't that important. Not really. Perhaps it would satisfy for a night, a week, but eventually this entire thing would repeat itself. One by one he would request another and another until it was just Rick standing there with his daughter in his arms.

"That's a lie," Liz told him in all seriousness. "You know that."

"But who am I to make that decision?" He questioned her, he looked so lost. She turned to look at Hershel who wore a mask of sympathy before looking back to Rick as he continued, "Should I tell the group?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "If there is one thing that I have noticed about your group, Rick, is they will do anything to protect their own. No matter the consequences. You want to rally them up better than anything you could do – tell them that someone is threatening their family. Tell them the truth. Honesty is always better," Liz trailed off then, wondering if she was giving him the right advice or not. Who was she to be standing here trying to help him? All she had managed to do was keep her and Dustee from becoming walker bait.

Rick reached out and grabbed her shoulder. His grip was warm and it sent an almost forgotten feeling to surge through her. Like an electric shock that reminded her to feel. She gasped slightly at the sensation as he pulled her closer and she had to lift her chin to look at him, he growled low, _"Our."_

"What?"

"You said 'your'," he told her, "But it's our. _Our group._ You are a part of this family, Liz. You saved all of our lives already."

The tears that slammed into the back of her eyes were hot and heavy. They, thankfully, did not spill but she was sure they rimmed her eyes in an obvious way as she nodded once and simply repeated: "Our."

Looks like Dustee was right after all.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: The Casualties of War and the slow Crumbling of Peace**_

There numbers had grown considerably. Rick and his group had opened their gates and allowed the enemy's weaklings in. They were useless. Most having gotten so used to the way things had been in Woodbury that they didn't seem to understand the dangers of the outside world. Though there were a few men, the majority of those that had sought refuge with them were women and children. It was the least they could do after taking over their safe haven.

Provide another.

Long weeks passed. People settled. Everyone had a job to do. No one quite knew what to make of the strange feeling it was to be in a place where all person's wanted what was best for the whole. The group from Woodbury still seemed skeptical towards some people. Not Rick, though, nor did they distrust Daryl. Much to the redneck's chagrin.

 _The sickness came._ Dustee had fallen ill and it had been a nightmare. Liz had fought with Daryl for over an hour when he had decided to go on a supply run. He didn't want her to go with his group, he needed her to stay, but the woman had to do something. Do something. He refused. Adamantly so. It was a good thing too, when their members slowly began to succumb to the disease, she had been needed to fight them off those still fighting. Liz had taken out two alone trying to make their way into Dustee's cell. And poor Glenn had been so damned close by the time Daryl came back, Liz had actually thought he would die.

The thought of his death tore at her heart.

It was the moment she knew that this group was no longer Rick's group. At least not in her heart. She had slowly began to find herself caring for each member. Glenn and Maggie, their resolve. The intensity in which they held to each other at all times, but not once let their love get in the way of what was best for everyone. Rick and his son, though Rick had stepped back, he was still the leader. Everyone was just waiting for him to rest. Hershel in his wisdom, Beth and her naivety, even Daryl. Liz actually really liked the man. He was loyal and smart and he had a way of saving the day without trying.

It helped his case, that Dustee had befriended him. If that was what you called their banter. Day in and day out they did so. Toying with one another. But he had been in a mood since Carol's disappearance. A large blow to the group. The woman, though her past be humble, had become an important member of the prison's core. She was brutal in her thinking and kept people on their toes. Liz knew that she was teaching the children how to defend themselves, and she agreed whole heartedly the importance of it. None of them needed to be helpless. Not in this world.

She had suspected that Karen and David had been taken out. Eradicated for the greater good. A notion that made sense. It made the person responsible someone who cared too much for people under their charge. Telling that to the masses, however, would have been a dumb move. Her disappearance shortly after than almost spelled it out to Liz just who had been responsible.

They were all recovering, Glenn and Dustee had been up and moving for a week now, but still they were not up to their full strength. The death of so many, however, had hit them all hard. Patrick, the Doc, the girls' Lizzie and Mika's dad – so many had to be burned. So many.

When it happened, the inevitable. It blindsided all of them.

The ghost appeared. One that should have been dealt with and he been spared. Mercy given to no man – that had been Liz's advice, advice that had been ignored. And with this ghost came a small army and a fucking tank.

She had watched in horror when the man brought the machete down and into Hershel's neck. The screams of Maggie and Beth would forever be imprinted in her mind. The cursing of Daryl, the shocked gasps of Carl, the shifting of the chain length fence from the grip of those who clung – Rick shot, Michonne managed to get away, but Hershel's death would forever change them. Forever rock them.

The prison fell in eight minutes. The moment the fences came down, the moment shots rang into the air, people scattered. They had never really formed a plan, never thought to make sure people could find each other again. Liz hadn't even thought to find Dustee. She had torn off through the field, dodging gunfire and made her way as close as she could to Rick. He was in the middle of fighting the Governor when she approached, he was losing. No. He was losing! But before she could cross the distance she had to dive out of the way of the tank and dodge more gunfire, by the time she looked back up Michonne stood over the dead body of the beast who had done this and Rick was standing and screaming for his son.

They left the prison with just them.

Rick, Carl and her.

Dustee had been nowhere in sight, Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, Beth….all of them were gone. The bus was gone too. Hope whispered in her ear that they were all on it. Reality cackled in her ear. There had been no time, however, to linger. The three of them made it out and into the woods. They watched in painful shock as the paradise that they had called sanctuary succumbed to the dead. When the large explosion rang through the air she felt a small hand grab her wrist and pull. Looking down to Carl, she reached out to pat his cheek before looked up to see Rick staring blankly forward. They had lost their Judith.

The loss of a child was like nothing else.

Her mind screamed to go back. Dustee was back there! She couldnt leave her! She couldnt abandon her, but that was a suicide mission. No, her job now was to help keep these two safe. She would mourn for her friend later. IF ever. Because Dustee was strong, Dustee was capable - she had to have survived.

When they found the house, Liz was beyond exhausted. But whatever amount of tired she felt, Rick beat it tenfold. The man was barely able to stand upright. Sheer will and determination had caused him to continue forward and when he sat down on the couch she knew it would only be a matter of moments before the Sheriff would be out for the count.

What she had not expected, was for him to be down for days.

At first she and Carl kept quiet. After two days, however, there was little need for them to keep their distance from one another.

"Do you think he will ever wake up?" Carl asked, his face turned towards his dad, but his eyes jutting upward from beneathe the large Sheriff's hat.

Liz nodded, walking over to Rick and putting the back of her knuckles onto his forehead, "He doesn't have a fever and he's breathing – Carl, honestly, I think the man is just…"

Carl nodded, "Weak."

Liz frowned at the retreating boy's back. That was not at all what Liz had been thinking. That word didn't touch even the smallest part of what created Rick Grimes. Carl was upset. He had been since the prison. He had been downright a little ass, if she were truthful, but she understood. He was mourning. Grieving. He was angry. And all of the pint up anger was directed towards the man that laid on the couch before her.

"Carl," she called out and followed him into the kitchen, looking at him as she leaned her shoulder against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "You think your father is weak?"

The blue eyed kid made a 'pft" sound, "Yes, don't you?"

Liz's brows pulled together as she stepped into the kitchen and towards him, "I don't think your father has a weak bone in his body."

"Then what happened back there?" He snapped, his hands clenching and unclenching, his jaw set, his eyes wide.

"What happened back there was life. Someone saw what we had and wanted to take it, we didn't let him," she brought herself to him and reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, when he looked up at her with those blue eyes of his her heart seized in her chest. They were so similar. Clearing her throat she pressed forward, "He came back in revenge and we were not ready for him. We were weak, the strain of illness had dwindled our numbers – he had the upper hand and we lost."

"My dad could have stopped him! But he let him kill Hershel and now…now!" His chest rose and fell with each word and Liz knew he was close to having the breakdown he desperately needed. But she wasn't the person that he needed to do that to.

Liz brought him into her for a quick hug, before taking him to the door of the living room, "Go talk to him."

He blinked and looked at her with confusion, "Huh?"

She shoved him into the room and pointed at Rick, "Go tell him that. You have something to tell your father – you tell him."

Tears slowly leaking from her eyes as she hid her face and pivoted towards the door across the kitchen – memories creeping into her mind that needed to be forgotten. Before the back door shut behind her she looked over her shoulder and called to him, "Ill be back in an hour." With that, Liz turned on her heel and left the house.


End file.
